


Infinity and Beyond

by ObscureReference



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universes, Anal Sex, Angst, Blindness, Canon Disabled Character, Disabled Character, Fluff, Frottage, Grinding, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned Ardyn Izunia, Mentioned Gladio, Mentioned Noctis, Minor Character Death, Minor Gun Violence, Minor Violence, Riding, Surgery, Thriller, Wings, implied injury, implied zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9871949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: 1.“I think we should break up,” Prompto said.Ignis’ coffee burnt his tongue. He set it down.“Good morning,” he said.--In a hundred different worlds, Prompto and Ignis come together in a hundred different ways.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this while super sleepy. Some super indulgent AU spam. I love AUs. Ask to tag!

1.

“I think we should break up,” Prompto said.

Ignis’ coffee burnt his tongue. He set it down.

“Good morning,” he said.

Prompto peered at him from over the curve of his folded arms, slouched in his chair. The window behind him created a glow that was almost difficult to look at.

“Seriously,” Prompto said, voice muffled, talking more to the kitchen table than Ignis. “We should break up.”

“May I ask why?” Ignis said.

The question only seemed to repel Prompto more. He sank even further into his chair. Breakfast was sure to burn at this rate.

Prompto mumbled something into the skin of his arm. Ignis walked over and leaned his hip against the table, mere inches from Prompto’s elbow.

“Is this about me leaving?” he asked, knowing that it was.

Prompto looked up. His mouth and chin were still hidden in his folded limbs, but at least now Ignis could look him in the eyes. He sighed and reached out, caressing Prompto’s cheek with his palm until Prompto allowed him to hook two fingers under his jaw and tilt is face up.

“It’s for eight months,” Ignis said, pretending it wasn’t that long a time to be apart. He knew it was.

Prompto parted his lips. Closed them. He looked away.

“Eight months,” he repeated.

“I’ll be back.”

Prompto didn’t say anything. He glanced down at his bare feet.

Ignis raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think I will?”

He waited for Prompto to do something, to say anything. Sunlight streamed in through the window, strikingly warm and friendly compared to the tension in the room.

Eventually, Prompto rolled his shoulders as though he was trying to loosen himself up.

“It’s not _that_ ,” he said, but he still wouldn’t let Ignis catch his eye.

Ignis had a feeling he knew where this was going. He threaded his fingers between Prompto’s and squeezed. Prompto lightly squeezed back, looking only slightly placated. The table shifted slightly as Ignis leaned more heavily on it. He waited.

Prompto fidgeted with his nailbed. “It’s just. Eight months is a long time.”

“I’m aware.”

“So I just, you know. Don’t want you to feel tied down here or anything.”

“Prompto,” Ignis said seriously. “I’m not going to find someone else just because I’m in another city.”

“It’s not that!”

“I wouldn’t forget you either.”

This time Prompto flinched. It was easy to forget, sometimes, how much Prompto doubted himself.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Prompto said, his voice soft.

_You’re a great guy_ , Prompto had said once, looking sad, and for some reason Ignis was reminded of it now.

Prompto continued, “But you and I both know this might be a more permanent thing and. I’ll be here. You’ll be there. I just. Don’t want anything to happen that you’ll regret.”

Ignis couldn’t imagine what scenarios Prompto had been torturing himself with. He nearly wondered if Prompto had been holding this in ever since Ignis had given him the news a month ago, and then he shoved that thought away, unable to bear it.

“So your main concern is the distance?” he asked.

Prompto’s eyes flickered to his face. “I mean, that’s part of it—”

“Then move in with me.”

Prompto froze. His eyes grew comically wide. “Seriously?”

Ignis squeezed his hand again. This time Prompto held tight and didn’t let go. He had flushed red in the sunlight.

“I would not offer if I wasn’t serious,” Ignis said. The sun was in his eyes, but he did not turn away. “If all goes well and it looks like our branch of the company will be staying on a more permanent basis, then I’ll make the proper arrangements.”

“Really?”

It was impossible not to smile. “Really.”

“That’s—“ Prompto suddenly hesitated, grin frozen on his face. “You’re not just saying this because of me, right? You really want to move in together?”

“Of course,” Ignis said. “Don’t you?”

Prompto all but tackled him. Ignis came very close to falling over, his full weight hitting his legs very suddenly after leaning on the table for so long. He stayed upright though, instinctively wrapping his arms around Prompto so as to protect him if they fell. His chest felt light.

Suddenly, Ignis smelled  smoke.

“There goes breakfast,” he said just as the fire alarm began the blare. Prompto immediately jumped back and covered his ears.

“Woah!”

“Cereal it is then,” Ignis said, not minding terribly. The fire alarm continued to screech at them. Prompto buried his face in the crook of Ignis’ collarbone and smiled.

“Cereal never hurt anybody,” Prompto said.

 

 

 

 

2.

It was their anniversary, and Prompto was late.

A woman, arm-in-arm with her girlfriend, walked through the entrance. Ignis perked up at their arrival only to realize they weren’t who he was waiting on. He leaned back in his chair.

He knew Prompto hadn’t forgotten. He had reminded Prompto several times about their reservations the past few days, and Prompto had seemed somehow even more excited than Ignis at the idea of an anniversary dinner. He had promised a dozen different ways that he’d be on time, most of them without Ignis’ prompting. Ignis had believed him.

He always gave Prompto a little leeway in the schedule, of course, because Prompto was often prone to running behind. That was nothing new. But _this_ was edging on concerning.

Ignis adjusted his tie. It was no matter. He would simply wait. There was no reason he couldn’t turn the waiter away a third time. The bouquet he’d picked up on the way still looked impeccable in the middle of the table. He was sure Prompto would run in looking disheveled and out of breath at any moment, and then Ignis would listen dutifully to whatever tale had kept him tied up for so long.

It hadn’t been terribly long. Not really. He was sure Prompto had been later than this before.

The couple that had walked in earlier passed by his table, following a waitress. The two women were deep in conversation.

“How awful,” the brunette said. “Gods, I hope he’s okay.”

“I _know_ ,” her redheaded date replied. “That wreck looked terrible. And it was so close by! If we had been a minute faster, we might have gotten caught in it!”

The brunette frowned. “But they hit a pedestrian, not another car.”

“Yeah, but s _till_.”

Whatever else the women had to say got lost in the tinkling of glass and the shuffle of chairs. The restaurant was full of patrons, and the hustle and bustle kept everyone on their feet. It was a very nice place. Ignis had made reservations two months in advance.

And Prompto was late.

And there had been an accident down the road.

Ignis had a sickening feeling in his stomach.

He stood up.

 

 

 

 

3.

Ignis dropped his keys by the door, and Prompto had only just twisted around in his seat to say hello when Ignis stooped down and caught his lips in a searing kiss.

Prompto melted into Ignis’ touch immediately, barely having time to wish he’d worn a little more lip balm today before he was lost in the feeling of Ignis’ hands running up his neck. He wrapped his arms around Ignis’ shoulders and stood up, not breaking the kiss. Ignis’s thumb swiped across his jaw. Prompto sighed into his mouth.

“Wow,” he breathed as they parted for air. He opened his eyes, not remembering when he had closed them. “What a way to greet a guy.”

Ignis smirked. “Are you protesting?”

“You wish.” Prompto pecked him on the mouth once more. “Seriously, what’s up? Something got you in a mood?”

“Nothing in particular,” Ignis said, nuzzling his nose into Prompto’s hair. Prompto could feel Ignis breathe into his skin. “I just very much wanted to see you all of a sudden.”

A smile stretched across Prompto’s face. “Well, don’t let _me_ stop you.”

Ignis chuckled. He pressed a kiss to Prompto’s eyebrow and then another on his cheek, making his way down until he nipped at the skin under Prompto’s ear. Prompto gasped. Ignis was eager, far more excited than usual, and Prompto felt fire lick at his insides because of it. He rolled his hips.

Within moments Ignis had him out of the kitchen and onto the sofa, covering Prompto’s body with his own. The front door was locked. The shades were drawn. It was just them and nothing else. Nothing else mattered.

Ignis rocked against him. Prompto was shorter and they weren’t quite aligned, but the feel of Ignis’ already hard cock against his leg felt _good_. The friction he felt from rubbing against Ignis’s thigh felt _better_ than good. Prompto groaned, low in his throat. His eyes fell shut. Ignis kissed him.

It was like they were teenagers again. Or, rather, like Prompto was a teenager again, straining against his pants and desperately trying to get off. Ignis’ hands snaked under his shirt. Normally Prompto would have hesitated a bit more, wary of the stretch marks and extra skin he had hidden under there, but this time he couldn’t bring himself to care. Ignis’ hands on his skin felt too hot to mind.

Then Ignis reached down and cupped Prompto through his jeans, and suddenly Prompto was arching into his hand. He accidentally bit Ignis’ lip. His dick throbbed.

It was short work from there. Ignis grinded against him, erratic in the way he normally only ever became after they had been going at it for a while and he was nearing the end. The thought that Ignis couldn’t control himself now drove Prompto wild. Every thrust of Ignis’ hips against his own lit up something inside him, and Prompto _ached._ He couldn’t keep himself from moaning nor could he control the hitch in his breath when Ignis moved like _that._

“Do you even hear yourself?” Ignis panted into his ear. “You’re phenomenal.”

He kissed Prompto’s throat. Prompto came with a shout.

Ignis followed a moment later, rocking into Prompto’s shuddering body and the growing wet spot on his jeans. He gasped right before he came and didn’t stop rubbing against Prompto for almost a minute afterwards. Prompto loved it.

Ignis collapsed on top of him. Prompto tiredly looped his arms around his torso.

“Wow,” he said, trying to catch his breath and staring at the ceiling. “You should miss me more often.”

Ignis kissed his chin in answer.

 

 

 

 

8.

“Come on, Prom, hop in!”

Noctis floated along the shore, balancing himself belly-down on an innertube. He lowered his sunglasses and looked at Prompto expectantly.

“That’s okay!” Prompto called out to him. “I’m good out here.”

Prompto stood on the beach, dangerously close to the water. Every roll and recede of the waves was mere inches from his feet, and just standing this close was nearly unbearable. He had on his swim trunks and a t-shirt. He’d gotten this far. He felt he’d made a pretty good effort. No more was needed.

Noctis laid his cheek on the rubber tube. “The ocean won’t kill you, man. I promise, no sharks or giant squids or anything.”

Those were definitely things to be afraid of, but that wasn’t why Prompto was avoiding going in.

Gladio came up from behind. “What’s going on here?”

“Prompto’s afraid of the water,” Noctis said. The waves were slowly pushing him farther down the beach, but Prompto stayed rooted to his spot.

Gladio looked at him. “Seriously?”

“Yep!” Prompto eagerly agreed. “Very scary! Guess I should just stay right here and not get any closer!”

Gladio looked at him skeptically, then at the sea. Noctis had lost interest and had begun to doze in the bright sun. He would probably wake up with a sunburn. Gladio weighed his options and chose the ocean over Prompto, wading into the water. Prompto was almost one-hundred percent sure Gladio was going to flip the innertube. He figured now was a good a time as any to make his escape.

“I’m just gonna go find Ignis,” he said to open air. “Yeah.”

He ran away.

He found Ignis settling in under an umbrella he must have carried from the car while everyone else ran for the changing rooms. Ignis had laid a few towels across the plastic beach chairs, securing their spot for the day. His swim trunks were plain black like Noctis’, but Ignis’ looked a bit more nicely tailored. He looked up as Prompto approached.

“I thought you’d be in the water by now,” Ignis said as he approached.

Prompto slowed to a reasonable pace, meandering the last few feet to Ignis’ side in the shade.

He shrugged. “I’m not a huge fan of saltwater.”

Or any water, really, but he didn’t need to announce that.

Ignis raised his eyebrows at him. Prompto thought Ignis had chosen a spot so far away from the shoreline because the sea-spray would ruin his glasses if they got any closer. Whatever the reason, he was grateful.

“Is that so?” Ignis asked. “Then why didn’t you protest when Noctis suggested the beach for our vacation spot?”

Prompto shrugged.

“Oh, you know. There’s sandcastles, volleyball.” He flexed. “Thought I could work on my tan.”

That last part gained him the laughter he’d been hoping for, and he preened under Ignis’ attention. If his face felt a bit warm, he blamed the hot sunshine.

“If I may ask,” Ignis said, digging through his bag. “What is it about the ocean that you dislike?” He glanced at the camera hanging around Prompto’s neck. “Afraid your electronics will short-circuit?”

Prompto’s hand instinctively went to the sweatband covering the barcode on his wrist.

_He means the camera_ , he reminded himself. _Not me._

Because the truth of it was, Prompto wasn’t real.

Physically, he was solid enough, sure. But he wasn’t flesh-and-blood real. His bones were made of metal, his veins were wires and nodes, and he’d probably weigh more than Gladio if they ever tested it. He had a barcode on his wrist that designated him as an experiment ( _PRMT-0_ ) and enough electronic processors to support a dozen supercomputers. Because he _was_ a supercomputer.

Prompto wasn’t a real person. He was a mountain of gears and oil pretending the truth didn’t exist. And he was afraid of getting wet.

Water was an android’s worst nightmare, but saltwater was especially dangerous. Lacking the buoyancy he did, it was so easy to sink to the bottom of a normal pool.  The ocean didn’t have a bottom like a pool did either. It was endless. Plus, saltwater rusted gears, corroded seals, and generally mucked up everything even more than regular water. It was the _worst_ , and, admittedly, Prompto was a little nervous around it.

Granted, water wasn’t _supposed_ to be an issue. He had been designed so it wouldn’t be. Prompto could take showers. He could run out in the rain. He’d never tried a bath, but he had been created to be mostly waterproof. He couldn’t short-circuit even when submerged.

Probably.

Ignis was waiting on him, he realized.

Short-circuit. Camera. Right.

“Something like that,” Prompto said.

Ignis watched him carefully. Prompto was afraid he’d ask something more, some follow up question Prompto would have a hard time avoiding, but instead Ignis raised up his phone and said, “I was just about to begin a new chapter in my audio book before joining the others. Care to listen?”

“Sure!” Prompto jumped at the opportunity to avoid the ocean and, better yet, to spend time with Ignis.

In the distance, he thought he heard Noctis yelp, closely followed by Gladio’s bark of laughter. Prompto settled into one of the beach chairs next to Ignis

Ignis smiled. “I haven’t even told you what it’s about.”

“I trust your judgement,” Prompto said. “You can be lame, but I don’t think you’d pick anything _super_ lame.”

Ignis swiped at his phone screen, pulling up the book. “What if I told you it was a history of mathematics?

Prompto’s mouth fell open. “Wha—Seriously?”

“I’m joking.”

“Phew!” Prompto leaned back in his chair. “Let me guess. It’s an adventure book. No! A mystery! Oh! A mysterious adventure!”

“I suppose you’ll have to see,” Ignis teased. He set his phone on the arm of the chair between them. “I’m afraid it might have some science-fiction elements, if that’s not your style.”

“Oh.” Prompto’s face fell for a moment. He wasn’t sure he wanted to listen to anything that paralleled his own life too closely, but at the same time, it was a little heartening to know Ignis liked stories about fantastical technology and the people it affected. Also like him. “That’s fine! That can be cool.”

“Good,” Ignis said. He caught Prompto’s eye. “Let us begin.”

He tapped the screen.

_“Chapter One,”_ the narrator said. _“The first artificial intelligence was created by a woman named…”_

 

 

 

 

17.

“Is this supposed to be music?” Ignis asked.

It sounded a lot like ambient noise—the click of a spoon, the jingle of keys. But there was piano there too, he belatedly realized, tying the randomness together with some kind of electronic beat. Prompto’s phone lay on the windowsill next to its owner, the music echoing around the apartment.

Prompto shrugged, his legs pulled close to his chest. He looked out the window toward the gray and dreary sky. Fat raindrops rolled down the glass, adding to the small lake that had begun to grow below their apartment.

Bad day, Ignis surmised.

He waited for Prompto’s permission to sit, which the blond gave by scooting over a few inches until his arm pressed against the no doubt chilly windowpane. Ignis squeezed into the small space next to him, one foot on the floor to keep from topping over. It wasn’t a very large ledge. His arm hovered awkwardly above Prompto’s shoulders until Prompto gave him the go-ahead to touch. Then he wrapped his arm around Prompto.

Prompto breathed in. So did Ignis. They watched the rain fall. The music playing from Prompto’s phone slowly faded away and then repeated.

 

 

 

 

23.

Prompto had fallen off the train. It wasn’t Noctis’ fault.

It wasn’t. Ignis told himself that. It was Ardyn and his illusions, and it wasn’t Noctis’ fault.

Except it was Noctis who had chased him through the train cars, and it was Noctis who had shoved him away. It was Noctis who had openly admitted to confusing Prompto for Ardyn, smacking his gun away, and now it was Prompto who was out there somewhere, lost. Dead, possibly, and at the very least weaponless. The nights were growing longer and the daemons were growing stronger.

It wasn’t Noctis’ fault. Ignis told himself that. Repeatedly.

Ignis couldn’t see anymore _~~(useless)~~_ , so he couldn’t have known what Prompto had looked like when he’d fallen even if he’d been there, and yet he could still picture it in his mind’s eye. He could _see_ the way Prompto’s face would have twisted as his shock morphed into fear. He could imagine the utmost terror Prompto must have felt as gravity gave way to weightlessness and he went tumbling through open air. The way he must have rolled and crumpled in he hit the ground, the train easily traveling fast enough to snap his neck—

“We’ll get him back,” he told Noctis.

He desperately told himself the same.

 

 

 

 

27.

Prompto fidgeted in his chair. He was sure Ignis heard him, but Ignis didn’t acknowledge him. Ignis hadn’t acknowledged much of anything since the nurse had removed his bandages and he’d been revealed to be still momentarily blind. Ignis might never see anything again, the nurse had said. It was a waiting game now.

Noctis was still asleep, and Gladio was… somewhere. Prompto felt awkward just sitting in silence, but he didn’t want to leave Ignis alone either. He didn’t think he’d want to be alone if he was injured and bedridden. He didn’t think he’d want to be alone if he had been possibly blinded for life either.

He hoped Ignis felt the same way, because the man sure as hell hadn’t said anything in forever.

“Prompto, whatever you want to say, just say it,” Ignis said shortly. His words were clipped, and he didn’t turn his head toward Prompto when he spoke. Prompto was surprised at how terse he sounded until he remembered the migraine Ignis was no doubt suffering from. Prompto couldn’t blame him for a bit of discourtesy.  

Prompto blinked. “How did you—”

“I can hear you thinking from here.”

 “Oh, right.” Prompto deflated. To believe that Ignis could see him for a moment—Stupid. “I was just, you know.”

“I do not know.”

Yikes. Ignis had zero patience today. Or maybe it was just zero patience for him. He’d been nice enough when the nurse was there. Prompto had the feel he’d be kicked out if he didn’t figure something out fast, and he didn’t want to leave Ignis in a sour mood.

Prompto jiggled his foot. “So, uh. Things went badly.”

Ignis sighed through his nose. “I’m aware.”

Prompto winced. He tried again.

“Like, really bad.” Obviously. Stupid. “But, um. Noct—Noct is gonna be fine.” Exhaustion, the doctors had said. He would be fine. Yeah. “He’s gonna wake up any day now. And Gladio is—”

Blowing off steam somewhere, grumbling under his breath every day, but the details weren’t important.

“Also fine,” Prompto finished. “And you’re—“

“Blind,” Ignis said blandly.

Prompto shut his mouth so fast there was an audible click. The atmosphere grew thicker, which had seemed impossible only a moment ago.

He swallowed.

“You’re… not fine.” That seemed good enough. “But you will be! At least, the doctors said you might recover some of your sight, so that’s good.” _Some_ of it. Not all. But some was better than nothing. “And… And even if you don’t, then you still have us. Noct and Gladio and me. We’ll still support you no matter what.”

Ignis was quiet for a moment. Prompto had to keep reminding himself Ignis couldn’t see anything and he wasn’t just staring out at nothing.

“Do you really think there’s room for a blind man on this mission?” Ignis asked. He said it plainly, like it was purely hypothetical, but Prompto thought his answer might matter a lot. As much as anything Prompto said ever mattered.

“Yes,” he said. “I do. You’re not just anybody. You’re Ignis. And you’re our friend.”

Ignis didn’t acknowledge his reply. Didn’t grunt, didn’t hum, didn’t turn his head in Prompto’s direction. Not that turning his head would have done anything since he was, obviously, blind. But it even with his eyes closed, some kind of acknowledgement might have made Prompto feel a tiny bit better.

Slowly, Prompto raised himself out of his chair. He had the feeling he’d said the wrong thing again.

“So, uh, I’m just gonna go…”

Ignis caught his wrist. Or, he at least tried to, Prompto thought. He reached out just as Prompto pulled away, and while Ignis still would have missed him by a few inches had he stayed motionless, it was the effort that counted. Prompto paused, eager to listen to whatever Ignis had to say.

“You may stay,” Ignis said. He stared blankly at the ceiling and breathed in. “If you wish.”

That was more than he thought he’d get. Prompto was already sitting back down.

“Of course,” he said. “Whatever you want, Iggy.”

 

 

 

 

31.

“Do you like cooking?”

Ignis blinked. It was the first time he could remember someone ever asking him that question.

“I don’t mind it,” he said honestly. He poured the rest of the sauce into the pan and left it to simmer.

Prompto frowned. He was laying upside down off the side of the lone bed in the RV, and his gravity pulled his hair away from his face. His cheeks were slowly turning pink from the blood rushing to his head. “But do you _like_ it?”

The answer was something Ignis had come to terms with long ago.

“Not particularly,” he said.

“Then how come you’re always the cook?”

“Because I’d prefer if none of us starved.”

Prompto hummed. He rolled onto his stomach. The lack of blood rushing to his face looked like a relief. “I can cook instead sometimes, if you want.”

“I’d prefer not to die of food poisoning anytime soon.”

“Hey!” Prompto said. Then he admitted, “Well, yeah, actually, I’m not the best cook. But seriously, we can all take turns. You don’t have to do it all the time.”

Ignis could already picture how that would go. He had tried to teach the prince how to cook for himself a few times before, with poor to middling results. It was still debatable whether or not he’d starve if left alone long enough. There was no way he could come up with many meals on his own. And he doubted Gladio would have much interest in taking turns either. If nothing else, the system they had going on now worked, and it made mostly everyone happy.

Prompto, though, seemed earnest enough.

“Would you have any interest in learning?” Ignis asked.

“If it helps you out, yeah,” Prompto said. It was a surprisingly frank answer. Ignis felt himself smile. He gestured to the pots that were being heated on the clunky stove.

“Come here then,” he said. “You can help me with this. Pasta should be simple enough.”

Prompto scrambled off the bed.

 

 

 

 

40.

“Is that my coat?” Ignis asked.

Prompto ducked his head into the collar of Ignis’ jacket. “No?”

“Are you asking me or are you telling me?”

“Um. The second one.”

“Really?” Ignis strode over and pretended to examine the jacket. Prompto tries his best to melt into the couch. “It’s funny you say that, because it looks like the one I put in the closet last week after you spilled orange juice on it. I can even see the stain right there.”

He pointed at a spot on Prompto’s chest. Prompto very resolutely refused to look down. “Weird.”

The corner of Ignis’ mouth twisted upward into a smile. “Quite.”

Ignis sat down next to him, and Prompto scooted over to make room. As soon as Ignis was comfortable, Prompto leaned on his shoulder. Stealing Ignis’ old coats kept him warm and it was fun while it lasted, but nothing compared to the real deal.

 

 

 

 

42.

Awareness came slowly, like a gradually thinning veil. By the time Prompto was _aware_ of becoming aware, it was too late to go back to sleep. He was comfortable and warm, and there was an arm strewn across his chest. Which was weird because the amount of sunlight prying through his eyelids told him it was late morning at best. Ignis was always an early riser. He didn’t enjoy sleeping in like Prompto did.

Prompto opened his eyes and immediately shut them again. It was so _bright_. He groaned.

“Problem?” Ignis asked, clearly amused. Prompto groaned louder. He tried opening his eyes again. As he did, he became aware of cold drool spot on his pillow. He not so subtly inched away from it.

Ignis had obviously been awake for a while, but didn’t look like he’d left the bed at all that morning. His hair was uncharacteristically flat on the side he was laying on. His glasses were missing, and he was squinting at Prompto in consequence. It was cute.

Incredibly slowly, Prompto adjusted to being awake.

“Hey,” he finally said. His voice was thick with sleep. Ignis smiled when he spoke, and Prompto didn’t bother to pretend it didn’t still give him butterflies after all this time.

“Good morning,” Ignis said.

Prompto hummed quietly. “Is it?”

“Perhaps afternoon.”

He hummed again, letting his eyes fall shut. Jeez, he was tired. They hadn’t even done anything particularly stressful yesterday.

When he opened his eyes again, Ignis was still staring.

“What?” Prompto said. “Something on my face?”

He wiped at his chin and found what was possibly dried drool but nothing else. Ignis’ grin grew wider.

“Not quite,” he said.

“Then why are you staring?”

Ignis wiggled closer and kissed his cheek. “I just like looking at you.”

 

 

 

 

49.

Somebody grabbed Ignis’ collar and yanked him backwards. At the same time, a rush of air flew past his face.

“Woah!” Somebody cried loudly. The same somebody who was still holding his shirt. “That was close! Hey, are you okay?”

The Somebody released him. Ignis immediately felt much better.

“Yes,” he said. “What was that?”

The rush of air and the squealing of tires. Ignis presumed it had been a car, but he had also been certain he’d had the pedestrian light go-ahead. Their beeping was so distinctive. But he had to be wrong about something here.  

“That guy just totally blew through the red light!” The same Somebody said. “He nearly mowed you over! What an jerk.”

“Indeed,” Ignis said. The pedestrian light stopped beeping. He heard the other cars begin to move again. “That would have been most unfortunate. Thank you for grabbing me in time.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Someody said. “It wasn’t your fault. It was the driver’s. Oh, and I’m Prompto, by the way.”

Finally, a name.

“Ignis Scientia,” Ignis said.

“Nice to meet you!”

There was an awkward pause where Ignis assumed Prompto raised his hand to shake and then realized Ignis couldn’t see it.

“Uh, anyway, do you want me to walk you to wherever you’re going?” Prompto asked. “Not that you can’t get there yourself! But, you know. So no one tries to run you over again.”

Truthfully, Ignis walked this route every day and knew exactly where to go. The car through the red light had been an anomaly. But he had to admit he was for some reason curious about Prompto, and he didn’t mind getting to know the man who had apparently saved his life a bit more. Besides, it didn’t hurt to have someone at his side in case his luck took an even worse turn today.

“Not at all,” he said. “It’s right this way.”

“Cool.”

 

 

 

 

56.

In terms of wing size, no one could match the Lucis Caelum line. Noctis’ wings were impressive, seriously. Only King Regis’ were bigger, but Prompto had only seen those on TV. And that jet-black color? Unmatchable. Noctis’ wings were always the talk of the town wherever they went. They were nearly impossible to hide. Every normal person had wings that were maybe a foot long, and then Noctis came along with wings as big as his body. Wings a person could seriously _fly_ with. They weren’t just there for decoration. It was hard not to be impressed with them.

Still, despite all that, Prompto liked Ignis’ wings the most.

Regular people had wings small enough to hide under their clothes. It was something of a tight fit—uncomfortable, stifling—but Prompto made it work. Hiding your wings was uncommon enough that Prompto sometimes got looks for it, but Ignis was high enough on the political food chain that he could have gotten away with it if he wanted to. He didn’t, though.

Ignis’ wings weren’t any bigger than the average person’s, but they were a nice, solid brown. A lighter brown than Gladio’s. Some people might have said he looked common, but Prompto thought he looked sophisticated. Regal. Ignis’ wings never twitched or flapped when he didn’t want them to. They were always still. He was elegant. His wings were the exact opposite of Prompto’s.

In addition to the twitchiness, Prompto’s wings looked like someone had dumped a cup of old paint water on his back. His feathers were speckled brown with hits of orange and yellows, but the oddly mixed colors faded as they went. The tips of Prompto’s feathers were sickly gray. To top it off, his left wing was bent, misshapen. It probably had something to do with his birth or the fact he’d been made in a lab. Prompto wasn’t sure. Either way, he didn’t like looking at them. He kept his wings hidden under a binder or his clothes and ignored them for the most part. His wings were no match for someone as amazing as Noctis or graceful as Ignis or strong as Gladio. He was no match for even the average person. So Prompto didn’t even try.

Surprisingly, Noctis and Gladio never asked him about it. Noctis had never seemed to noticed that Prompto’s wings were always hidden. At least, he never brought it up. Gladio, on the other hand, had clearly noticed Prompto’s lack of wings when they first met. He had obviously eyed the empty space where Prompto’s wings should have been, but when Prompto tensed, Gladio had turned to Noctis and said something about training instead. By the time Prompto had been introduced to Ignis, he figured the advisor had been told not to bring it up. And Prompto certainly never did.

He had teased Noctis about his wings once or twice, but that was because Noctis had complained about how obnoxiously large the Lucis Caelum bloodline wings were first. Prompto usually avoided the topic on his own. But while everyone else was admiring Noctis’ wings, Prompto always stole a moment to look at Ignis’ instead. He admired them almost as much as he admired the man himself.

 

 

 

 

67.

Prompto watched, dumbstruck, as Ignis slowly lowered himself onto his cock. Prompto’s mouth fell open, and he nearly squeezed his eyes shut with the pleasure of it, but the sight of his dick disappearing inside Ignis was too good to look away from. Ignis grunted as Prompto bottomed out. He breathed in through his nose. Prompto’s hands were trembling with the effort to keep them above his head.

His hands weren’t tied. He would have been fine with ropes, though the thought was also a little daunting, but Ignis said this was a “test of willpower.” No touching until Ignis said so, and Ignis set the pace.

“Doing well?” Ignis asked. He sounded unaffected, but his cock was hard and the tip was wet between them.

“Y-yeah,” Prompto panted. He wanted so desperately to jerk upwards into Ignis’ heat, and he only barely kept himself under control. “I’m good.”

“Good,” Ignis said. Then he raised and lowered himself again. Prompto released a breathy groan, clenching his hands into fists to keep himself from reaching out. He rolled his hips upwards, but it didn’t help. It wasn’t enough.

Within seconds, Ignis was bouncing on his cock like an expert, and Prompto could barely contain himself. Every smack and drag of skin again skin was euphoric. Ignis was tight and hot around him, and he was gazing down at Prompto with barely contained lust. He was watching Prompto, making sure he didn’t make any unnecessary moves. Prompto didn’t necessarily get off on not touching, but it got Ignis hot and bothered, and Prompto got off on Ignis. He wanted to do his best. But it was so _hard._

He didn’t realize he was moving until Ignis grabbed his wrists and pinned them to his chest.

“Watch yourself,” Ignis said, voice low.

Prompto rolled his head back and whined. Ignis kissed him chastely on the mouth before straightening and going right back to riding him. Something about the change in position must have been angled the right way, because this time Ignis’s eyes fell shut and he moaned. The sound went straight to Prompto’s dick.

Ignis somehow picked up the pace, every rise and fall of his body against Prompto’s pure pleasure, and it wasn’t long before Prompto couldn’t hold it in anymore.

The sounds they were making, the way the bed shook under him, Ignis’ fingers encircling his wrist—It was too much.

Prompto gasped. “Ig—Ignis, I can’t—”

“Let go,” Ignis panted. His hair had plastered itself to his forehead with sweat, and he looked strangely disheveled. Somehow the sight of him made Prompto even harder. _“_ Release yourself _.”_

Prompto did just that. He came hard, and Ignis didn’t slow for a second. As he came down from his high, he realized Ignis had released his wrists in order to jerk himself.

Prompto took advantage of his newfound freedom without hesitation. His left hand grabbed Ignis’ hip, and his other joined Ignis in stroking himself. To Prompto’s surprise, Ignis came fairly quickly after that. He spilled hot against Prompto’s stomach, grinding and rolling his hips against Prompto without actually riding him anymore. He came apart silently, shaking slightly, and Prompto had never been more in love in his life. 

 

 

 

 

71.

One of the bandits raised a butcher knife over his head, and Ignis processed the fact he was most likely about to witness Prompto’s arm being chopped off only microseconds before Prompto shouted, _“I’m infected!”_

Everyone came to an instant standstill, weapons still drawn. Ignis had a knife in each hand, poised and ready to strike. Gladio froze with his shotgun still raised, ready to fire. Nobody moved.

Bald Bandit had a gun pressed to Noctis’ head, but like everyone else, his eyes were focused on Prompto and the two other gunmen who were inspecting a wound Ignis couldn’t see.

“I’m infected,” Prompto repeated, chest heaving with adrenalin. He eyed the fresh bite mark on one of the bandit’s arm. A bit mark _Prompto_ had given him—a move Ignis had only moments before thought rather vicious, especially for Prompto. “And now you’re infected too.”

“Bullshit,” Bandit One said, eyeing the skin on Prompto’s arm that Ignis couldn’t see. “This looks more than a day old. He got bit days ago.”

That was impossible, Ignis thought. They hadn’t been separated from each other in days. There had only been—

He mentally shook it off. It took less than a day for an infected person to turn. If Prompto were really infected, he would have turned by now.

Except.

Bandit Two shifted uneasily. “I dunno, man. It looks legit.”

“It’s a bluff!”

Ignis thought about how restless Prompto had been the past few days, how troubled he looked when he thought nobody else was looking. How anxious he’d become at night, how unwilling to sleep. How he’d rejected Ignis’ comfort lately. How he hadn’t let Ignis kiss him since—before.

A sickening feeling settled in Ignis’ stomach.

It wasn’t a bluff.

“I don’t give a shit if it’s real or not,” Bandit One said. “Let’s just kill them and—”

Gladio took the opportunity to shoot Bald Bandit in the face. Noctis rolled to the floor. Everything started moving again.

Later, after the bandits were dead and they had put a reasonable distance between them and any potential pursuers, Prompto showed them the bite.

Ignis couldn’t help the hiss that escaped him when he saw it. There was no mistaking the indent of human teeth on Prompto’s skin. The skin around it was scabbed and red. The wound had been agitated. But it was healing. Prompto’s eyes were downcast.

Gladio’s first response was anger. “You didn’t think to tell us about this?”

“I was going to leave,” Prompto said quietly. “Once I started feeling sick.”

Except he’d never started feeling sick, Ignis surmised. So he’d spent the last few days waiting for an illness that wasn’t going to come instead, even after the deadline to turn had passed.

“So you were just going to leave?” Gladio all but shouted. “Without telling us? What would we think? What would _Ignis_ think?”

Prompto flinched.

“Gladio,” Ignis chided. Gladio reluctantly stopped, mouth drawn into a tight line. Prompto still wouldn’t look at him.

Noctis didn’t mask his confusion. “But I thought it took less than a day to turn?”

“It does,” Ignis said. His mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

It took a day to turn and Prompto hadn’t, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still infected. The symptoms hadn’t appeared, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a walking biohazard. And there were very few ways to know for sure.

Ignis stared at Prompto. They had kissed a thousand times, been together a hundred different ways. If Ignis kissed him now, if Prompto bled on him the wrong way, would Ignis turn into a walking corpse? He didn’t know.

Prompto _still_ wouldn’t look at him, and that was the worst part of all.

Noctis scowled. “So what now?”

Ignis didn’t have an answer.

 

 

 

 

92.

Ardyn Izunia was the worst criminal Ignis had ever come across in his career. He traded identities at the drop of a hat. He disappeared for years at a time. He was a smooth-talker, a thief, a blackmailer, and a known murderer. He was the scum of the earth. He was the kind of man parents had nightmares about.

He had broken into Ignis’ home.

Ignis’ home, which he shared with his boyfriend.

Ignis hadn’t been home. But Prompto was.

The past few minutes had been a blur. Oddly enough, Ignis had been examining the Izunia file when he’d gotten the news. There were no leads and a lot of pressure to come through. Ignis and Gladio had been on the case for weeks.

There was some clatter outside the door. Ignis hadn’t paid it much attention to it. Then someone had knocked.

The door had flung open before Gladio even reached for the knob. Noctis stood on the other side looking more serious than he ever had in his life. He didn’t even look at Gladio. He instantly zeroed in on Ignis and said, “Dispatchers are on the phone with a 911 caller right now. The call is coming from your house.”

Gladio’s head had swiveled to stare at him, and Ignis had felt all the blood drain from his face. The pen in his hands fell to the floor.

And now they were barreling down side streets, sirens blaring as Ignis desperately hoped they’d get there in time.

It was against protocol for officers to respond to emergencies involving people they knew, but Ignis didn’t give a shit. Gladio had basically made it a rule that he never had to drive, and yet here he was driving now. It was a day for breaking rules.

There were other officers responding to the scene, but by some miracle Ignis and Gladio got there first. Ignis was rolling out of the car before they even rolled to a full stop.

Gladio swiped at the back of his uniform. He missed. “Wait, you—”

He was too slow, and he couldn’t stop Ignis from racing towards the front door. Training got the best of him then, however, and he slowed as he reached his house. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t let himself simply burst through the front door without knowing the situation first. He drew his weapon and listened. The street was still.

All Noctis had known was that Prompto was in danger and that someone was in the house with him. With Izunia’s case being the only one Ignis had been investigating recently, there was little guessing to be done as to who the intruder was. Other than that, Ignis was flying in blind. That was almost certainly a death sentence when dealing with a man like Izunia. He didn’t care. Prompto was in danger.

Gladio was only a half-step behind him. He grabbed Ignis by the upper arm, his grip iron tight. Ignis glared at him.

“We should wait for backup,” Gladio said. Ignis shook his head, too anxious to speak. Gladio took one look at him and snorted softly. He released Ignis’ arm. “Yeah. Thought you’d say that. I’ll take the back door.”

They were going to be in big trouble after this. Ignis was grateful he had a partner as good as Gladio.

Gladio had visited often enough that Ignis trusted him to know the layout of his home. Ignis nodded. Gladio silently disappeared around the corner, gun drawn.

Ignis tried the front door. It was unlocked. He crept inside. The front hallway was empty.

The kitchen was to his right, and it wrapped around the back. To the left, the living room. Directly in front of him were the stairs leading to the second floor. Corners and furniture obscured most of the first floor from his sight, but he could hear only silence. Gladio would be coming through the back in mere moments.

Ignis took the stairs. A few of the steps creaked under him, but no one jumped out. He feared the worst.

Part of him wanted to call out and hear Prompto respond in turn, but he didn’t know who else was still in the house. He kept silent.

It wasn’t until he was standing outside his bedroom door that Ignis got his first clue that his boyfriend was still alive.

Inside the bedroom—his and Prompto’s bedroom—somebody sniffed. “Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t really want to move. I’m just. Waiting.”

Stupidly, Ignis lowered his weapon and pushed the door open.

Prompto’s head snapped up. One arm was wrapped around his legs, pulling them close to his chest, and the other held a phone to his ear. His eyes were red, but other than that, he sat in the middle of the bed looking whole and hearty. Ignis’ legs nearly gave out right then and there just from looking at him.

He wanted nothing more than to stagger over to the bed and pull Prompto into his arms, but he knew he couldn’t drop his guard just yet.

Firstly, he spotted the gun that laid haphazardly at the foot of the bed, like someone had dropped it there. He recognized it as the gun he and Gladio had all but forced Prompto to get almost a year ago.

Secondly, he saw Ardyn Izunia’s body. The man was very obviously dead. Apparently from several gunshot wounds. The blood had already soaked into the carpet.

Ignis looked at the gun, the criminal, and the way Prompto was holding himself, shaken but uninjured. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. He was suddenly very thankful for those times Prompto had joined him at the shooting range.

Ignis holstered his gun and swiftly joined Prompto on the bed. He ran his hands over Prompto’s sides. “Are you okay? Are you injured?”

Prompto’s phone had fallen, and Ignis could hear the tinny voice of the emergency operator coming out of its speakers. He would pick it up and inform the operator that everything was all right as soon as he knew it was true.

“I’m okay,” Prompto breathed. He grabbed Ignis’ hands and held them tight. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“Are you?”

Prompto sucked in a wet breath. His eyes looked shiny. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Gladio appeared in the doorway. He lowered his gun as he spotted Izunia’s body.

“Wow,” he said. “What happened here?”

Ignis ignored him. He thought the evidence spoke for itself.

“No offense,” Prompto sniffed. “But I think we should move.”

Ignis pressed his forehead against Prompto’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and tried to calm the rapid beating of his heart. “I think you’re right.”

 

 

 

 

98.

Somebody grabbed Prompto’s shoulder. He and Noctis both screamed. Prompto’s heart was racing a mile a minute when he spotted who his attacker was.

“Ignis!” Prompto had been two seconds away from having a heart attack. “Are you _trying_ to kill us?”

Noctis shoved at Prompto’s shoulder. “Hey, I only yelled because _you_ yelled.”

“Ignis grabbed me!”

“I was just coming in to say hello,” Ignis said innocently. Prompto didn’t believe him for a second. He dropped his game controller and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Horror games were the _worst_ , and yet somehow he always ended up playing them in the dark with Noctis anyway.

Noctis stole the game controller as Ignis leaned down to peck Prompto on the cheek.

“Hey,” Prompto half-heartedly protested. His anger was softened by the feel of Ignis’ lips on his skin. Besides, he didn’t want to play that much anyway.

“You snooze, you lose,” Noctis said. He clicked _Restart_.

Prompto rolled his eyes. He leaned back on his hands and looked up at Ignis. “What’s up?”

Ignis’ mouth curled into a smile.

“Nothing in particular,” he said. He began to wander back towards the kitchen, around the corner. “Just wanted to say hello.”

“Uh-huh,” Prompto said. “You just wanted to scare us, didn’t you?”

“Now what would I ever get out of that?” Ignis asked. He flipped off the hallway light and disappeared. Suddenly the room was ten times darker than before. The only remaining light source was the dim light from the street lamps streaking in through the window. Even Noctis tensed, though he resolutely kept his eyes on the TV screen. Prompto hunched in on himself.

“Ignis?” he called out. No response. “Aw, come on!”

“Dude,” Noctis said quietly. “Your boyfriend is evil.”

“It’s fine! We don’t need any lights anyway. Horror is _meant_ to be consumed in the dark.”

The TV roared. Both men jumped, startled by the virtual monster howling in front of them. Noctis yelped, whereas Prompto had been a bit too frozen in fear to make any sound.

Somewhere in the area of the kitchen, Prompto swore he heard Ignis laugh. The hallway light suspiciously flickered back on.

 

 

 

 

99.

“Are you a nurse?” Ignis asked, voice slurred.

Prompto reminded himself that this was normal. The doctors had said Ignis would be a little confused until the drugs wore off. A more sober Ignis would have _hated_ not being more in control of his body. Prompto very much wanted to take a picture—or better yet, a video—of this loopy Ignis, but he kept himself in check. Ignis would have just made him delete it anyway.

“Not really,” Prompto said. He placed a cracker in Ignis’ open palm. “You should eat these.”

“What is it?” Ignis said suspiciously.

Even under the influence, Ignis didn’t trust easily. Prompto laughed. “It’s a cracker. You need some food in your stomach.”

Bleary eyed and squinting—Prompto made a note to find Ignis’ glasses later—Ignis nibbled at the edge of the cracker. He took the tiniest bite imaginable. Prompto laughed again.

“If you’re not a nurse, who are you?” Ignis asked.

The laughter stopped. Prompto hadn’t prepared himself for this one.

“Uh.” Well, honesty _was_ the best policy. “I’m your husband.”

Ignis inhaled his cracker. Prompto hastily helped him take a sip from the cup of water that was sitting on the bedside table. He wiped Ignis’ chin when he was finished. Ignis looked even more dazed than he had before.

Ignis coughed. “You’re _what_?”

Prompto set the cup aside.

“I’m your husband,” he repeated. He was suddenly very nervous.

“You’re _my_ husband?” Ignis asked. “We’re _married_?”

Prompto fidgeted with his ring. He had never felt ashamed about his ring before, but he suddenly had the urge to hide it until Ignis regained his senses.

“Wow,” Ignis breathed, ignoring the fact Prompto hadn’t spoken. “You’re beautiful.”

Prompto’s heart stopped. “What?”

Ignis continued to ignore him.

“How did I get so lucky?” He stared at Prompto at like the hospital lights above their head were stars and Prompto had hung them from the ceiling. “Amazing.”

Prompto buried his face in his hands, groaning. He was glad Ignis wasn’t coherent enough to make fun of how red his face was. Unfortunately, that _also_ meant Ignis was just out of it to mistake Prompto’s embarrassment for sadness.

“What’s wrong?” Ignis asked, startled. “Did I say something?”

He tried to sit up. Prompto hastily pushed him back down.

“No!” Prompto blurted. “No, you’re fine, just—Here, eat another cracker.”

Prompto shoved a second cracker in his direction, and Ignis’ fingers curled around the edges. Ignis looked at it with suspicion. “Will that make you happy?”

Prompto was torn between laughter and hiding out in the bathroom to save him the embarrassment. “Yes.”

“Then I will.”

Ignis nibbled on the cracker. He eyed Prompto, waiting for either praise or some kind of sign he’d done well. This time, Prompto did laugh. Ignis noticeably relaxed.

“Good,” Ignis said, cracker crumbs on his lower lip. “You sound very nice when you laugh.”

Prompto leaned over, elbow resting on his knee, propping his head up in his hand. Rhetorically, he asked, “When did the doctor say the drugs would wear off again?”

He wondered how Noctis and Gladio had managed to miss all this. There was a good chance they wouldn’t make it back before the anesthesia wore off. Which might have been a good thing, actually.

Ignis blinked in surprise.

“I’m on drugs?” he asked.

“Eat your cracker,” Prompto said fondly.

Ignis did.

 

 

 

 

100.

“Maybe I should wait,” Ignis said.

If Noctis thought Ignis couldn’t see him rolling his eyes, he was wrong. Or perhaps he just didn’t care.

“What’s there to wait for?” Noctis asked. His arms were crossed. “You love him. He loves you. You guys can be sickeningly sweet together forever. There’s no problem.”

The ring in Ignis’ pocket felt like an anchor. He was supposed to meet Prompto at the park in fifteen minutes. He felt rooted to the spot.

“I don’t want to pressure him,” he said.

Noctis frowned. “I really don’t think you’re pressuring him.”

“I just want to be sure,” Ignis said.

He turned heel and examined himself in the mirror for what was possibly the tenth time. His tie was tight, his pants pressed. His shirt was buttoned up and tucked into his slacks. Was that a stain? When had he given himself a stain? Now he’d have to change—

As if reading his thoughts, Noctis tiredly said, “That’s not a stain. It’s a shadow.”

Ignis straightened. The “stain” disappeared.

A shadow. Right.

He continued to examine himself. He thought he’d picked out an appropriate outfit for a proposal. It wasn’t overdone; the last thing he wanted was to indicate something was going on before he ever got the chance to lower himself to one knee. But it was a nice outfit. “Dressy,” Prompto would have called it. Casual enough that if Prompto said no—and it was completely acceptable for him to say no, there would be no hard feelings, Ignis told himself—or if the moment wasn’t right and he couldn’t propose right then, Ignis could still get away with it.

He brushed some invisible dust off his pants. It made him feel better.

“Do you think the location is appropriate? I’m meeting him in the park—”

“—Where you first met after he fell out of a tree and landed on you, I _know_.” Noctis rolled his eyes again. Perhaps Ignis really had been overthinking this too much. Aloud, at least. “You’re fine, Specs. Go meet your fiancé already.”

_Fiancé,_ Noctis said. What a word.

“He’s not my fiancé yet,” Ignis protested, but the word “yet” hung heavy on his tongue.

Prompto wasn’t his fiancé. _Yet_.

Yet.

Ignis’ phone buzzed, no doubt with an _“omw”_ text from Prompto, and Noctis shoved Ignis towards the door.

“Get a move on already,” Noctis said.

Ignis double checked his pockets. Phone, check. Wallet, check. Ring? There was a brief moment of panic before he found the square lump in his pocket. Check.

“Right,” he said, partly to Noctis and mostly to himself. “I’ll be off then.”

Noctis sank onto Ignis’ bed, probably exhausted from “encouraging” Ignis for the past half hour. Ignis hoped he would be gone by the time he and Prompto returned. They would probably want the privacy, assuming things went well.

He hoped it would go well.

Ignis had just begun to leave the room when Noctis said, “He’s going to say yes, you know.”

Ignis turned back. Noctis’ eyes were closed, and if Ignis didn’t know better, he would think Noctis was sleeping.

“I am hopeful,” Ignis said.

Noctis scoffed. He threw an arm over his eyes.

“He’s going to cry when he says yes,” he said. “I hope you brought tissues.”

Ignis had stuffed a handkerchief in his pocket, just in case.

“I’m leaving now,” he said. “Be sure to lock up before you go.”

Noctis mumbled something in response. Ignis checked on the ring in his pocket a third time, his heart pounding as he went.

When Ignis and Prompto returned, they found Noctis asleep on their bed. They made quick work of kicking him out. Noctis made sure to congratulate them, smirking smugly, before he left. Prompto couldn’t have beamed any brighter if he tried. The engagement ring fit perfectly. Ignis couldn’t remember feeling more elated in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr!](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/)
> 
> NOTES:  
> 8\. I know Gladio is the main reader in-game, but I thought Ignis might like audio books. That way he can listen on the go. Also, would an android au not be sick as hell? That’d be both sad and cool.  
> 17\. Prompto is listening to In Love With a Ghost-esque music. So was I when writing it.  
> 71\. Inspired by The Last of Us  
> 99\. You know the video.  
> 100\. Happy end because I’m a sucker for those.


End file.
